The Listening Sky (17 page)

“You’d not be so smart-alecky if I was on my feet.”

“If you were on your feet you’d not want it.”

“I paid good money for that damn bottle of laudanum. I’ll drink every drop if I want to.”

“Not as long as I’m here, you won’t.”

“Well, I can fix that!”

“Go ahead. It would suit me just fine. Find me a way back to the station, and I’ll leave at dawn.”

“You think you know every damn thing to be known!”

“I may not be the smartest person in the world, but I know enough not to leave this bottle of laudanum here with a crazy old
man who might take too much of it. Not that I care! But I won’t have your death on my conscience.”

“You don’t have one!”

From the doorway, Jane looked back over her shoulder ready to fire another angry retort. She came up against a hard, warm
body and backed away from it as if it were a hot stove. T.C. had come silently to the doorway. To cover her confusion she
directed her anger at him.

“Don’t you ever make any noise?”

“Sometimes.”

“Ha!”

“What are you two fussin’ about? I could hear you all the way downstairs.”

“There are three drops of laudanum in that glass of water,” she said, ignoring his question and nodding toward the washstand.
“Give it to the old coot when he’s ready for it. I’m going to bed.”

With her arms crossed tightly over the bottle, she brushed past T.C. and hurried to the room across the hall. She didn’t see
the puzzled look that followed her, or the grin on Doc’s face, or the wink he gave T.C.

Four men sat around a small fire swapping yarns—or lies, depending on who was talking.

“She was the fattest woman I ever did see. Bouncin’ on her was like bouncin’ on a featherbed. Never did know if I got it in
the right place. Haw! Haw! Haw! Didn’t matter none. I went off good anyhow.”

“Are women all ya ever talk about?” Bob Fresno asked the question in an offhand way, but inwardly he was disgusted. He was
tired of listening to Milo bragging about the women he’d had and about the lumber company he’d owned with his brother. It
was lies, all lies, or he’d not be here working his butt off for two bits a day and board.

“Ain’t nothin’ better to talk about. Ain’t that right?” Milo grinned, and looked at the other men for confirmation. “I a’ready
got me one picked out here. Young and juicy. Ain’t nothin’ better.”

Bob had been watching the faintly lighted window in the upstairs room at Kilkenny’s house. Jane had gone there early in the
morning with Kilkenny, and Bob had not seen her again all day. He’d heard talk that the doctor was sick and that she was tending
him. After that someone said
she
had sewn up a cut on a man’s leg. He wanted to know what the hell was going on. He didn’t like it one bit that she was over
there with Kilkenny and the scout who had come in last night.

Bob listened with half an ear to Milo’s going on about the young girl.

“I like ‘em untried and scared. ‘Course it’s all a put-on. Oncet they get a taste fer it, they like it. Everybody knows that.
Gives a man a mighty powerful feelin’.”

“Are ya talkin’ ‘bout the little ‘un ya was pesterin’ when that big kid come over and knocked ya on yore arse?” The man who
spoke leaned over to expel a played-out chaw of tobacco from his jaw.

“I wasn’t pesterin’ her. We was jist talkin’,” Milo flared. “And that kid won’t stand in my way. I’ll tell ya that right off.
He caught me off guard, is what he done.”

“That kid ain’t no slouch with a gun.”

“That ass-hole kid’s goin’ to be took for a elk or a deer one of these days and get his stupid head blowed off.”

“Is that how ya do yore fightin’? Shoot a man in the back?”

“Why not, if he’s needin’ killin’? You one a them
honorable
fellers that give a bastard a go at ya?” Milo was completely unaware of the dangerous ground he was on.

“I face a man if I plan to kill him.”

“With that pig-sticker?”

“Don’t have to worry ‘bout running outta bullets.” The soft slurry voice had an edge to it.

“Haw! Haw! Haw! One chance is all ya got. Shi… it. I ain’t dumb enough ta go huntin’ with one bullet in my gun.”

“It’s been enough so far.”

Bob suddenly took notice of the quiet voice and was instantly on guard. Forest Tennihill was whiplash thin. He had a long,
narrow, weathered face, a mustache that drooped down on each side of his mouth, and a slow way of speaking. He also had a
long thin knife in a sheath on his thigh. Bob suspected that he had another one in his boot. Tennihill was a man of a few
words and obviously was not to be fooled with.

“You turnin’ in, Milo?” Bob stood and stretched.

“Ain’t ya goin’ back to the saloon? That red-headed woman’s kinda pretty. She’s old and ain’t very friendly, but she’s got
big tits.”

“No. I’m hittin’ the hay,” Bob replied, his eyes on the upstairs window again.
I wonder if Jane’s in there.

“Guess I’ll go along with ya. Sonofabitchin’ breed says no credit at the saloon,” Milo said.

“What you need credit for?” Bob asked as they left the campfire. “Thought ya owned a company over in the Bitterroot.”

“I do, gawddammit. I own half a it. Get my money anytime I go back fer it.”

“Hell. If I had money someplace I’d have my butt in the saddle and be headin’ for it.”

“I got my reasons.”

I bet you have, you lying son of a bitch.

They walked down the street toward a shack where they were bunking with several other men.

“I ain’t stayin’ here if the breed don’t give me a decent job. Hell, I know everythin’ there is to know ‘bout a donkey engine,
and I’m as good a sawyer as ever sawed a plank. I can do it all.”

“I’d not be so free with callin’ Kilkenny a breed, if I was you. He ain’t the one hirin’ mill hands anyway. And I’d not be
messin’ with Tennihill unless yo’re anxious to see what yore gizzard looks like. That sucker’ll cut ya up bad.”

Milo immediately went on the defensive. “Wal, ya ain’t me, and I ain’t backin’ up fer nobody, breed or pig-sticker.”

“Suit yourself.”

“Ya think he’s got his eye on my gal?”

“Who? Kilkenny?”

“Shit no! Tennihill.”

“How the hell would I know?”

“I picked her right off. I jist missed gettin’ me one last year. I ain’t missin’ out on this’n.”

They kept walking and Milo kept mumbling his threats against Tennihill, against Kilkenny. Bob didn’t give a damn if Milo got
his throat cut or his head blown off as long as he didn’t set his sights on Jane Love.

She was his.

E
ARLY
morning light filtered into the room as Jane made ready to face the new day. She shook the wrinkles out of her serviceable
brown dress, put it on, and tied a blue and white print apron about her waist. With the three threatening notes safe in her
apron pocket, she did up her hair, then sat down on the edge of the bed to put on her shoes and stockings.

Polly awoke and sat up knuckling her eyes with her fists.

“Is it time to get up already?’

“I’m afraid so.”

“It’s so good to be sleepin’ in a real honest-to-goodness bed. Did you have to get up with the doctor?”

“A couple of times.”

“A herd of buffalo could’ve passed and I’d not a heard. I was awful tired.”

“You’ve cooked and scrubbed here for three straight days. It’s no wonder you’re tired.”

“I’m tickled to be here with ya. I got to earn my keep.”

“I don’t want to see you lifting anymore big buckets of scrub water.” Jane went to the door. “I looked in on Doc a little
while ago too. He’s still sleeping. I’m going to speak to Mr. Kilkenny today about washing his towels and sheets and bringing
someone else in to care for him.”

“Yo’re still goin’?”

“I’ve not changed my mind. Get dressed. I’ll go ahead and fire the cookstove.”

“Will ya wait and go to the privy with me?”

“If you hurry.”

When Jane reached the kitchen, a lighted lamp sat on the table and the coffeepot was sending up the aroma of freshly ground
beans. There was no sign that a meal had been prepared. Down the hallway a light shone from the doorway of Kilkenny’s office.
While she was pondering whether or not to start breakfast, Polly arrived; and the two women went out onto the back porch and
down the path to the outhouse.

The air was cool. The slight breeze was fresh with the clean, sweet smell of pine. The mill crews had left the day before,
but a sizeable number of men remained to finish the hotel. It was unbelievable that so much had been accomplished in three
days. Even now men were lined up at the cookfires for coffee and waiting to get into the cookhouse. Another busy day was about
to begin.

While standing outside the privy waiting for Polly, Jane planned ahead. Sometime today she hoped to have the opportunity to
speak to Colin Tallman and ask him to take her to the stage station or to arrange for a ride on one of the freight wagons.
Polly would be all right here in Kilkenny’s house. Herb would not let any harm come to her. Nathan could linger for days.
Others could take care of him. She could not afford to stay any longer and run the risk of being humiliated and scorned should
her enemy speak out.

With that thought entrenched firmly in her mind, she went with Polly back to the house.

“Ask Mr. Kilkenny if he wants breakfast, Polly.”

Jane carried the teakettle from the stove, warmed the water in the basin and washed her face and hands. The towel she used
to dry her face was damp and smelled of soap. One of the men had shaved here this morning.

“He ate already. He wants to see you,” Polly said from the doorway.

“Did you ask him if Herb and Mr. Tallman wanted breakfast?”

“They’ve gone off somewhere.”

“Guess it’s just the two of us and Nathan. I’ll make some mush.”

“I’ll make it while you talk to Mr. Kilkenny.”

Jane looked longingly at the coffeepot. She would have preferred to have been fortified with at least one cup before facing
the lion in his den. Since it was not to be, she braced herself and headed down the hall to the front of the house.

At the door to Kilkenny’s office she paused and watched him. His head was bent over the table he used as a desk. A pen was
grasped firmly in his big hand. His neatly combed blue-black hair glistened in the lamplight It was wet. He had bathed already.
But where?

“Come in, Jane,” he said without taking his eyes from the paper he was working on. Jane wondered how he knew she was there
because she had made no sound.

She entered and stood before the table, waiting for him to look up. He didn’t

“Sit down. If you don’t, I’ll have to stand. And if I turn loose of this damn pen, I might never pick it up again.”

Jane sat on the edge of the chair and watched him dip his pen into the ink well and write a few words before, he looked up.

“How do you spell request?”

“R-E-Q-U-E-S-T.”

“No wonder it didn’t look right. I had a G instead of a Q.” He inked the pen again and scratched out the word. In the process
a huge drop of ink fell on the letter. “Damn!” He dropped a blotter on the paper and hit it with the side of his hand. When
he lifted the blotter, the blob had spread and blotted out the word. He muttered another cuss word.

“What did you want to talk to me about, Mr. Kilkenny?”

“Have you had breakfast?”

“Not even coffee.”

He must have caught the trace of irritation in her voice. A smile deepened the brackets on each side of his mouth, and small
lines fanned out from the corners of his eyes.

“Need your coffee, huh?”

“I’m a blithering idiot without it.”

“Blithering? I’ve not heard that word in a long time. My pa used to say it” He looked down at the ink blots on the paper and
frowned. “After you’ve had breakfast, will you copy this letter for me? I need to send it off to our solicitor in Laramie.”

“I’ll be glad to if you let me go with whoever is going to take it to the train stop.”

The hands shuffling the papers stilled. “Eat your breakfast and we’ll talk about it.”

After Jane left the room, T.C. sat back in his chair and twirled the pen around and around in his ink-stained fingers.

She was still determined to leave.

He had thought about it a lot. The only conclusion he could come to was that something had happened since she arrived in Timbertown
that had changed her mind about staying here. She had some reasons other than her suspicion that he had brought the single
women here with the hope they would wed and settle permanently. T.C. did not like a mystery, and he suddenly felt that he
was knee-deep in the one that surrounded Jane.

A year and a half earlier he and Colin had discovered the town on land they had bought with money T.C. had inherited from
his father and money lent to Colin by John Tallman. They had ridden up over a hill, and there they had seen it, nestled in
a valley surrounded by pines and fir. Ten ramshackle buildings lined a weed-infested road. Five years had taken a toll on
the town that had been deserted when a silver vein petered out.

Garrick Rowe of Trinity was aware of the vast resources that surrounded the town adjoining his land and offered to buy it
if T.C. would stay and help bring the town back to life as Rowe had done for Trinity. The money would not only help pay off
the loan at the bank, it would also pay for the longhorns he and Colin were bringing up from Texas.

T.C. was satisfied with the rebuilding so far, satisfied with the people he had brought in—with the exception of a few. By
this time next year the job should be completed and he and Colin, Bill Wassall, and possibly Herb would be out of here building
their own place.

His mind shifted back to Jane. Thinking of her was occupying altogether too much of his time of late. He had thought she would
feel obligated to stay here in Timbertown, if not for Polly’s sake, then for Doc’s.

Would she stay after he showed her the paper he had written out and Doc had signed? Somehow T.C. believed it would not make
the slightest difference. In spite of the fact that she knew she was needed here, something was driving Jane from Timbertown,
and T.C. was determined to find out what it was.